


Pride & Prejudice - Rip it from my hands

by Synekdokee



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Angst, Erik is an asshole, Historically Inaccurate, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Period Appropriate Homophobia, misleading title, non-powered, regency au, vague age disparity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/pseuds/Synekdokee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Say you forgive me,” Erik whispered, his breath warm against the skin of Charles’ neck.</p><p>Charles stood quietly by the window, looking past their reflections out into the yard.</p><p>“You made your feelings quite clear,” he said, stepping away from Erik.</p><p>Erik grasped his wrist hard, refusing to let Charles walk away.</p><p> </p><p>“Please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride & Prejudice - Rip it from my hands

**Author's Note:**

> I was foolish enough to promise Luciddrugs a fic pair in the theme of Austen, called Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility. This is the result. I make no guarantees on the sequel.
> 
> Thanks to thewallhaditcoming and thechosennerf for betaing. English is not my native and I'm hardly an expert on regency era thingies, so handwave the anachronisms.

It ends like this - a cracked heart and naïve hopes trampled into dust.

It ends with countless regrets and wasted second chances.

It ends in a marriage and a promise once held close to the heart and now broken.

 

It ends with a letter, sealed and left trapped between the pages of a book, worn and loved.

 

“I am sorry.

 

Yours,

E.”

 

***

It begins like this:

“Did you hear Lord Lehnsherr has returned to the Iron estates?” Lady Raven asks of her brother one morning as they make their daily rounds. She feels his arm tense where it is wrapped around hers.

 

“I had not,” answers the young lord, his sweet face marred with a frown. “When did he arrive?”

His sister sighs, giving Charles a slight squeeze. “Yesterday morning, I heard. What business do you think he has here?”

  
“I must confess I am as surprised as you.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“I admit we haven’t spoken since he left, but I understood that after his wife passed, he had intended to sell his property here and settle in the South.” Charles guided them to the benches in the park, allowing Raven to seat herself before settling himself down.

 

“You two were rather close, weren’t you?” said Raven cautiously, watching her brother’s face carefully.

Charles swallowed. “He was kind to me, it is true. When father passed and I inherited the estate Lord Lehnsherr was an invaluable… support.”

He sighed, turning his gaze North. He imagined he could see the manor there, miles and miles away, and ignored the ache in his heart.

***

 

It began like this:

“My deepest condolences.”

Charles started, rising up from his chair and looking towards the door where a man stood, stiff and still as a statue.

“Erik,” croaked Charles. “You came-“

Lord Lehnsherr strode towards him, sinking to his knees to grasp Charles’ hands in his own.

“Your hands are ice cold,” Erik said, blowing carefully on Charles’ fingers and rubbing them between his palms. They sat silently, Erik holding onto Charles’ limp hands.

“I don’t know what I’m to do now,” Charles whispered. His eyes were hurting from exhaustion from having stayed up with his sick father, of holding back tears when Doctor McCoy drew the sheets over the Lord of the Xavier estate.

“I suppose I must forget about returning to University. I must take my father’s place and make sure things go on as they should.” He looked at their hands, his own soft and small in Erik’s firm, warm hold, the older man’s skin rough against his own.

“We are in this together,” Erik said, tipping Charles’ chin gently to look in his eyes. “I’ll stay by your side as long as you need me.”

 

***

 

It was carried on in countless touches, in shared looks and evenings spent together discussing literature and the sciences, arguing over politics and other petty subjects, always in good humour. It continued in a bond of friendship that pulled two lonely men together, both reveling in the company of the other.

 

 

***

Charles’ thumb brushed Erik’s lower lip, soft and plump against his finger.

Erik jerked back,  shock and disgust evident in his eyes.

“Do not touch me,” Erik hissed, the venom in his tone startling Charles, the sting in Erik’s words piercing him deep.

 

“Erik-“ he said, reaching desperately for his friend, only to have him draw further away.

 

“I said don’t touch me, you –“

 

 

It was only the first of the many fractures left in Charles’ heart by Lord Lehnsherr.

 

***

 

“Say you forgive me,” Erik whispered, his breath warm against the skin of Charles’ neck.

Charles stood quietly by the window, looking past their reflections out into the yard.

“You made your feelings quite clear,” he said, stepping away from Erik.

Erik grasped his wrist hard, refusing to let Charles walk away.

“Please,” he said, and Charles felt his resolve crumble as he looked at his old friend and saw the anguish and shame in his eyes. He reached up to cup Erik’s cheek gently, almost drawing away when Erik flinched.

“I refuse to participate in your campaign for self-loathing,” Charles said gently.

“You can have me if you wish – you always had me, just simply refused to see it. But for as long as your feelings for me – for us, or your own desires -  are as shameful and hateful as the words you threw at me that night, then I am afraid that I can’t offer you the redemption you seek.”

Erik hesitated before looking Charles straight in the eye, the expression on his face uncharacteristically fearful for a man Charles had grown to know as steadfast and fierce.

“I wish to be near you,” Erik said, swallowing hard and grasping Charles’ hand in his own.  
“I feel shame-“ Charles tried to pull himself free, but Erik held him firm as he went on. “But I would never be ashamed of you, of how I feel about you, my friend.” He pulled Charles closer, his mouth brushing the sensitive flesh of Charles’ ear.

“Give me a chance and I will show you.”

 

Charles had always been powerless when it came to Erik.

 

***

 

They spent weeks circling each other like wounded animals after that. They would touch, careful, fleeting brushes made to look innocuous but only building their lust. Charles wanted to have Erik for himself but he hesitated to make demands. Erik would have to come to him.

 

*

 

It simmered between them, the tension and want that they tried to suffocate almost drowning them, until it came to a head one autumn evening in Charles’ study.

 

Later, Charles would trace his tongue over the bitemark on his lower lip, would feel the ache of the bruises Erik’s fingertips left on him, would remember the sweetness of his release as Erik ground against him, the sound of his breathing laboured and blessed in Charles’ ear. He would remember the way Erik avoided his eyes after, but also the reverence of his touch as his fingers brushed at Charles’ cheek, his shoulder.

 

He would remember the delight in Erik’s kiss when he finally gave in.

 

***

 

“If you ask me it is a far bigger disgrace that he reduced himself to be treated as a woman,” Lord Shaw said, raising a laugh from the party gathered around the grand piano in the Xavier manor ballroom.

“Now now, “ said Lady Emma, touching his cousin’s arm playfully. “You know what they say about their kind, it isn’t really their fault they fell prey to the temptations of sin.”

“It’s disgusting and it’s shameful, don’t you agree Lehnsherr?” Shaw turned to Erik, simultaenously gesturing at the servant for more wine.

Erik smirked. “I would say that mother nature is capable of her mistakes.”

 

He would not look at Charles.

 

*

 

It was the hate that hurt the most. When Erik twisted away from Charles’ touch, his mouth twisted in a snarl. When Charles reached for him, hurting and lonely, and Erik pushed him away, only to draw him back later, mouth and hands tender on Charles’ skin.

 

The first time they shared a bed, all the times Charles had imagined it, the hopes he’d had where he would guide Erik carefully, would show him how to touch Charles and how to accept Charles’ desire.

But Erik fought him, angry and frightened, pushing his will over Charles like shackles, pinning him down and tearing at his clothes, biting at Charles’ lips when Charles attempted to soothe him like a spooked animal.

“You want a man, isn’t that right?” Erik snarled, grasping Charles’ wrists in a grinding hold, pressing him down as he spread his thighs. Charles whimpered against the pain but didn’t answer – this is what he wanted – Erik so close, skin against skin and breathing harsh and heavy. He had wanted this for so long, and yet-

He cried out when Erik rolled him over to lay on his belly, no gentler than he had been earlier. He felt Erik touch him between his thighs and jerked, but Erik would not let him go, instead pushing two of his fingers inside Charles, harsh and punishing. Charles didn’t know what he had done to deserve such cruelty, but he held his tongue, scared that this was the only way Erik would allow Charles to have him.

 

It didn’t take long before Erik removed his fingers and Charles felt him shift on the bedding, and then Erik’s knees were spreding him open further, settling in as the grip on Charles wrists loosened and let go. A hand  tangled in Charles’ hair, pushing his face into the pillows as though to silence him. There was a blunt hardness pressing against him and he jerked his hips, trying to get away but Erik hissed at him, told him to stay still, told him he wanted it, and he did, but not like this. He wanted desperately to see Erik’s face then, wanted to know that the expression on his face wasn’t one of hate, but then he was crying out as Erik pushed his way in, the slow, dry drag of Erik’s cock painful inside his body.

 

Charles bit his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut as Erik moved against him, a pained grunt escaping Erik’s lips as he fucked into Charles.

 

After a while it suddenly stopped, as though Erik simply gave up. Charles’ breath hitched as Erik pulled out and drew away, settling at the foot of the bed. Charle propped himself up gingerly, holding back the sob that settled in his chest at the ache in his arse, feeling raw all over. He turned to look at Erik who sat with his head buried in his hands, his cock still half hard, balls heavy between his legs. Charles reached out to him, brushing Erik’s shoulder with a gentleness he didn’t feel, no longer surprised when Erik flinched and shoved him away.

 

Anger sparking inside him, Charles pulled himself up and crawled to Erik, the  pain between his legs a reminder of Erik’s cruelty.

He didn’t know whether it was a punishment or a reward when he fought Erik into an embrace and grasped his cock, stroking him until Erik finally came, sobbing as he clung to Charles.

 

***

 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Erik had said, standing in library doorway. Charles didn’t look up. Erik stepped closer, his voice low as he spoke.

“I wish I could be the man you think I am,” he said quietly. “I wish I could give you what you deserve, the things you desire.”

“Oh my friend, you can,” Charles said, finally looking at Erik. He felt desperate, trapped. He was weary of this game, of Erik pushing and pulling but never giving in. He had grown to despise himself for always letting Erik have his way, even when he knew it would only end with his heart aching and Erik closing himself off, cold and cruel.

“You are still the same man who stood by my side when I lowered my father to his grave.” Charles stood up and went to Erik, laying his hand gently on Erik’s arm. “You were there for me when I was ready to crumble under that heavy load – you are a good man, Erik,” he pressed closer, their chests brushing as Charles stood on his toes to press a kiss to Erik’s cheek. As he drew back, there was a smile on Erik’s lips, tentative and fragile, meant for Charles alone.

 

*

 

 

There’s a loneliness in Erik’s heart, Charles knows. He used to believe he could be enough to fill it, that he could bend Erik’s hate and fear and forge it into something softer. During the early years of their friendship it had seemed possible, when Erik was there to guide Charles in his sorrow and his newly given role as a Lord.

Some days Charles can no longer remember the way Erik would look at him then. Had he imagined it, the warmth in Erik’s eyes, the careful touches?

 

 

*

They would build, the cracks and tears in Charles heart, with every gesture of cruelty Erik threw his way. It was draining, the way Erik would attempt to heal him by trying to be kind, the kisses he gave Charles like pearls from his lips falling against Charles’ skin.  The pleasure he gave when could forget about the disgust and guilt ingrained deep within his soul.

 

*

 

“I love you.”

It’s a coward’s confession, whispered into the darkness of a shared bedroom, secure in the knowledge that it won’t carry through dreams.

 

*

 

 

It would be easier if there was no kindness. If Erik would seek to hurt Charles, to use him and leave him in pieces, Charles could walk away. But Erik pleads for his forgiveness, time and again, asks for new chances with caressing touches and sweet words, and Charles gives them to him, even when he is already preparing his heart for a new wound.

Erik makes promises and breaks them, and each time Charles believes him like a love-struck fool.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I promise I will try.”

“I promise I will be the man you deserve.”

 

***

 

“It’s unbearably cruel,” Charles says, looking at Erik who refuses to meet his gaze. “You say you want to be with me but you keep treating me like your personal whore!” His chest feels narrow, as though it has been bound and he can’t quite breathe.

“I am tired of being treated like some shameful secret.” Erik flinches, but still will not look at him.

“Would you care if I gave up?” he asks, not expecting an answer. “Would you care if I found someone else, someone who wouldn’t punish me for their own insecurities, someone who would take me in their bed because they wanted me there-“  
  
Erik is suddenly on him, furious and frightening, though he has never been violent towards Charles. He grabs Charles by his shoulders and shoves him into a wall, pinning him there.

“You’re mine,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare, I will rip out the hearts of those who would touch what is mine.”

  
Charles doesn’t know when he started to rejoice in the vicious darkness inside Erik.

 

 

***

 

“I promise to never leave you.”

It’s murmured into his ear gently, Erik’s body curled over him protectively as he shudders on his knees, his shoulders pressed down to the mattress. Erik pushes inside him, carefully, so slow until his hips are flush against Charles’ arse. They stay like that until Charles whimpers, jerking his hips back in a silent request for more. Erik leans down and drapes himself over the line of Charles’ back, scatters kisses on the nape of his neck, the valley of his spine.

They’re quiet, the air tense and charged around them as they move together. Charles revels in Erik’s touches, they way he clings to Charles as though he’s frightened to let go, as though he would sink if he didn’t tether himself to Charles.

 

Erik comes first, with a soft whimper he smothers into Charles’ skin, hips jerking minutely as he spills himself inside Charles. Charles waits as Erik gathers his breath and then there’s a hand on his cock, firm and large, stroking him to completion.

 

Afterwards they lay on the large bed, Erik holding on to Charles. It’s new, this way Erik clings to him. Charles wraps his arms around Erik and holds him close until his breathing evens out and he’s asleep.

 

 

***

 

 

“I am marrying Lady Frost.”

Charles turned to look at Erik. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me.” Erik wasn’t avoiding his eyes now, holding himself straight and tall in Charles’ study.

Charles stared at him, heart hammering in his chest. He walked towards Erik, his stomach turning as he thought about Erik’s announcement.

“You can’t be serious,” he croaked. “Erik-“

“I’m quite serious, Charles.  This thing between us has gone on long enough, but I’m sick of these games.”

“Games..?” Charles whispered. “Is that how you see this? A game?” His chest felt too tight for his bursting heart. He reached for Erik but Erik stepped away, avoiding his touch.

“I gave my heart to you, you monster,” Charles said, proud of how stable his voice was. He wouldn’t cry, not anymore, even as he felt his heart crack in two.

“Not all of us can choose to live our lives without caring about consequences,” Erik said, looking at Charles coolly.

“How can you be this cold?” Charles asked, pleading silently for Erik to look at him and smile, tell him he was simply jesting, a cruel joke better than this betrayal. “How could you- you took me to your bed and you gave me your word while this was what you had been planning.”

Erik didn’t answer. He looked unaffected by Charles' fury, as though it meant nothing to him.

“I thought you-“ Charles swallowed and took a step closer to Erik. “You are my dearest- friend. I thought we wanted the same thing,” he said quietly, willing Erik to understand.

Erik laughed, cold and bitter. “Oh, my dear. We most certainly do not.”

Charles stared at him, trying to understand. “I cannot believe you could be this callous. Erik, I know this has been difficult but I thought this was what you wanted, that _I_ was-“

“You’re so damned naïve, Charles,” Erik hissed, walking around Charles, avoiding touching him.

“Do you truly believe I would risk everything – my reputation, my freedom –  for some childish slut?”

Charles stepped back as though struck. It hurt to look at Erik now, the man before him a twisted replica of his old friend, of the man he had fallen in love with.

“Get out,” he whispered. Erik tilted his chin up, looking at Charles defiantly.

“I told you to get out, get out before I do something I’ll regret,” Charles hissed. Erik stood still, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Get out!” Charles shouted, his voice cracking finally as his eyes stung with unshed tears.

 

Erik gave him a terse bow, a mocking salute, and turned, walking out without glancing back.

 

Charles collapsed into his chair, his eyes shut and chest heaving against the pain blossoming inside him.

 

***

 

It ended like this:

“Fetch the post-boy, I wish to send a parcel,” Erik snapped at the maid who curtsied and hurried to obey.

He sealed the letter carefully, handling the white paper gently, worried it might tear. He opened the book to the title page – “ _To Erik on your 30 th birthday – sincerely yours_,” with a capital X the only signature given. He wrapped the book neatly, making sure it wouldn’t come undone, and addressed it neatly. Giving his study one final glance to make sure everything was indeed packed, he headed downstairs where the carriage waited for him, Emma having travelled days before him.

The post-boy was waiting in the entrance hall. Erik handed him the parcel and a generous payment.

“Take this to the Xavier manor – to the Lord himself, and no one else.”

The boy nodded and hurried back to the yard.

 

Erik wasn’t looking for absolution – he didn’t deserve it and it would not change a thing. The love he carried for Charles was tainted with too much shame and cruelty. There was a time when he believed it could be cleansed by the sweet curve of Charles’ lips, the tenderness of his touch and the trust in his blue eyes, but there was something deep inside Erik- something that clawed at his innards and called for him to hurt Charles, to punish Charles for making him feel this way.

Erik had seen how it had changed Charles, how his casual cruelty slowly suffocated the light in him. It was better this way – for him to make a partner of Lady Frost, a woman as cruel and cold as Erik, someone Erik could not drag down with him in sin.

 

But Charles deserved an apology. It was the least Erik could do after all this. To offer him that final sliver of himself that hadn’t been rotted away by self-loathing.

 

*

 

By the time the post-boy reaches the Xavier manor Erik’s carriage is long gone. Charles won’t find out until the next day that the Iron estates have been emptied and abandoned.

 

He does not need to ask who the parcel is from – he recognises the familiar handwriting on it.

He unwraps it in the privacy of his chambers. It’s the book he had given Erik for his birthday, Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ – it had been given in good humour, but now it seems like an awful joke.

 

He can’t bring himself to open it. He remembers the dedication – _sincerely yours_ – and knows this is the final act of cruelty from the man he once considered so dear to his heart.

 

The book is stuffed into a drawer unopened, the letter inside it sealed, the words written on it trapped and left unspoken.


End file.
